Echoes of a Distant Past
by Loopylou
Summary: A visit to a town stirs up memories for Xena and the town folk.
1. Default Chapter

Echoes of a Distant Past 3771  
  
The fog was settling quickly, laying down to blanket the village in it's cloying dampness. The companions were traveling slowly; content to be on the move at last. They didn't feel the need to force a blistering pace. The road they were on was well defined by countless farm carts traveling to and from the once tiny outpost that had bloomed into a fairly large town. The petite blonde was in her usual position, walking beside the horse she had come to know so well. Her traveling companion and friend was walking beside her rather than riding. Argo needs a rest; she's getting tired. Xena had argued. And Gabrielle had thought: what about you? Don't you need to rest? She hadn't voiced her thoughts though, because she knew what Xena's answer would be.  
  
Both had been surprised by the speed of the fog, but had decided to continue on their way. They knew the path well enough to travel it blindfolded. Gabrielle was telling her friend a new tale she had heard the night before, while they had been in a town picking up supplies. Xena had interrupted several times to point out flaws in the accuracy of the tale. She could sense that her friend was becoming annoyed with her. Though she wouldn't admit it, she enjoyed listening to her friend's yarns. Gabrielle also knew that Xena rather enjoyed teasing her about the tales.  
  
The attack came suddenly and silently. Even the former warlord barely had time to draw her sword before the first of her aggressors were on her. Her horse's reins were dragged from her hand, and the spooked animal was lead to the side of the road, away from the fighting. Argo was soothed by the gentle hands of the man holding her. Seeing that they meant her horse no harm, she spared a glance in Gabrielle's direction. In the split second she switched her attention to her friend, two heavy blows landed on her under protected stomach. Winded from the blows, she gasped and bent over, catching her breath as the pain faded.  
  
She had been surprised, and hated the feeling. Kicking out, she knocked one man from his feet, sending him spinning into two others. The three landed in a heap of tangled limbs on the ground. A slight smile crept onto her face as she took out another assailant with a back handed blow. He fell back from her, blood running from his nose and the split on his lip. She bent forward, slamming her armoured shoulders in to two antagonist's stomachs. It knocked the air out of them. As she spun round to face another man, she took a heavy kick in the ribs from one of the men she had knocked down. The sharp pain made her stoop, protecting her bruised ribs.  
  
Her long dark hair fell away from her neck, leaving it feeling exposed to the killing blow she was expecting. It never arrived, although she did take a blow to her upper left arm. She was forced to drop her sword as more men crowed her. There wasn't enough room to use it. The breast dagger she always carried would serve her just as well in such close proximity to her antagonists. She sliced a neat gash across the back of one man's hand. He withdrew, only to be replaced by another. It seemed as if the number of men was inexhaustible.  
  
It was a fight Xena was destined to lose. Overpowered by sheer numbers alone, she could feel the bloodlust in those around her. It angered her. And frightened her just a little, because she could remember a time when she was the same as her attackers. Maybe not in crime, but in need to kill, to deprive people so that she could prosper. A few too short years had passed since she had changed her ways. Truly, she didn't know why or how she had stopped the bloodlust that still raged inside of her. Sometimes, she feared that she hadn't.  
  
She could let it free now, and maybe win the fight. She wouldn't though, for the sake of the blonde woman watching with horrified eyes from the other side of the clearing. Two guards held her arms, stopping her from rushing to her troubled friend's aid. They hadn't hurt her, nor showed any sign of wanting to. They simply held her, keeping her out harm's way. As much as she swore and threatened them, they ignored her. Gabrielle was puzzled- the men didn't seem to want to kill or rob them, but she could find no other motive for their attack.  
  
One man, braver or more stupid than the others, rushed at Xena. The force of the tackle sent them both to the hard earth. The man landed on top of Xena, his bodyweight forcing the air out of her lungs once again. Before she had chance to draw breath, more of the attackers joined him, pinning her to the floor. As much as she struggled, she couldn't break free of their hands.  
  
Two of the men pinning Xena to frozen ground hauled her to her feet by her arms. A pair of heavy manacles appeared from somewhere. The cold, heavy iron locked in place around her wrists, reducing her chance of escape by half. The men were well trained and well equipped, the worst combination to fight against and the best combination to fight with. She saw that another solider was about to bind Gabrielle's wrists in the same way, and reacted almost without thinking.  
  
She swung up into a kick that was aimed directly at a guard's head. The chains she wore impaired her movement and the guard simply ducked out of the way. She landed on the ground with a bone-jarring thump. She was about to rise when she saw Gabrielle shaking her head. She understood that there was nothing they could do. Xena nodded slightly, agreeing not to fight back for now. It went against everything she stood for, but she allowed herself to be dragged to her feet and forced into the back of a covered wagon. She had a feeling that the ride to town wasn't going to be a fun one.  
  
They had been traveling for no more than five minutes when Xena spoke. The men tasked with travailing in the back with them tensed, if as expecting an attack.  
  
"Where is my horse?" she asked, directing her gaze at a large man at the other end of the wagon. He wore the drab colours of a farmer, but there was an air of authority about him. His neatly clipped white beard and mustache gave him an almost scholarly look.  
  
"She will be taken to the town's inn. The innkeeper's son will take good care of her. We are not barbarians- we wish your horse and friend no harm. Our quarrel is with you alone." His tone hinted that she, however, was a barbarian. "Do you not remember me, Xena?"  
  
She flicked her gaze over his body, stopping finally at his left wrist. His left hand was missing. Suddenly, she remembered him. He had joined her army as a blacksmith. He had lost his hand when she caught him stealing rations. She had severed his hand herself, and had ordered that he be thrown out of her camp. She hadn't expected him to survive the night, let alone any length of time.  
  
He enjoyed the fact that she paled and knew she remembered that night. Now that she'd opened the gates, a flood of bitter memories washed over her.  
  
"You stole from me." Xena said shortly "I had to punish you. I would have lost the respect of my men if I hadn't." She sounded like she was trying to convince herself.  
  
"I was taking food to my family." He said, just as he'd pleaded all those years ago. "My daughter was sick."  
  
Anger sparked in Xena's eyes. "That wasn't my fault. You're lucky I let you live. I could have just as easily killed you."  
  
"It might have been better if you had." The absolute flatness in her words made Xena feel ashamed. "There's not much work for a one handed blacksmith."  
  
Gabrielle broke into the conversation "Will you tell me what happened?" she wasn't sure which one she was speaking to.  
  
The former blacksmith turned to look at Gabrielle. "There are some things in this world you are better off not knowing. This, bard, is one of them." he said darkly.  
  
"Xena?" Gabrielle questioned a little timidly, knowing that her friend hated to speak of her past.  
  
"Alright, if Jon here won't tell you. I will." She swallowed hard, and started speaking "It happened about eleven years ago....."  
  
11 years before- Campsite at Granda  
  
Xena moved silently around the huge campsite. She had just left her generals in the drinking tent; all quite drunk from the effects of the potent wine they had consumed. It was the best money could buy and she kept it for when she suspected something was amiss with her camp. She had found out the hard way that she could learn more if she loosened a few tongues with wine. She was clear-headed, having drunk only water herself, though the night was still young enough for that to be rectified.  
  
She was also furious. Markus, one of her most trusted generals, had just told her that someone was stealing food from her store tents. She'd punched him for not telling her as soon as he found out. No doubt he was in the tent nursing a black eye or split lip. She hadn't been too particular about where her fist fell. The thought gave her little satisfaction.  
  
She hadn't planned what she was going to do yet. She had been in such a rage that she had reacted without thinking. She knew that whoever had been stealing for her would be publicly executed at dawn the next day. Her personal guards had already been instructed to make the necessary arrangements for the execution. Everyone knew that she ran a tight camp. She didn't tolerate much, and being stolen from was one of the biggest insults she'd had. It was like a slap in the face.  
  
The gray flaps of the large tent came into view. She could see that there was someone inside and her anger mounted. The unknown person inside the tent hummed a little, and Xena knew who it was. A smithy from the last town that her army had raided. She had hired him when the old smithy- a small, stooped man that had traveled with them for almost three years- died suddenly. She'd put it down to his extreme age, and had planned to replace him as soon as possible. His death didn't bother her- men died every day, but the thought of having to train a new smithy did. She'd been lucky to find one at the next town.  
  
She yanked back the tent flap. The smithy- a large man called Jon- was unaware that his every move was being watched by a pair of eyes more dangerous than a hawk's. He continued dropping small loaves of flat bread into the sack he held open. A large strip of dried venison followed the bread. Just as his meaty left hand was about to close around a piece of honeycomb, Xena stepped forward into the light.  
  
"Is this how you repay me?" she asked, in a low, soft voice. Jon hadn't been around the camp long enough to know that the quieter she got, the angrier she was. Most men caught on quickly. He was taking longer than most though.  
  
"I have nothing to repay. You destroyed my village, my home." Jon said, not looking at her. His eyes continued to roam the tent, looking for something. At last, he saw it and made to step past Xena to get it.  
  
In less than an eye-blink, he found himself flat on the floor with all of the air out of his lungs. He kept perfectly still, because the razor sharp point of Xena's sword was resting against his neck. He'd sharpened it himself only that morning. He could remember his pride with the workmanship.  
  
He had made a very big mistake. Fear made his heart beat faster. Blood rose in his cheeks at the stupid assumption he had made. He had assumed that Xena would be getting drunk with the rest of her generals. Instead, she'd chosen to stay sober and had caught him. At least, that was how it seemed to him. How she'd found out, Jon had no idea. He watched as she stepped away from him, her sword held softly at her side.  
  
He bravely met her eyes and said in the strongest voice that he could muster "My wife and daughter are sick." He didn't know what he hoped to achieve with his words. Somewhere in Xena, he was hoping, there would be a small spark of pity. He found that there was none.  
  
She ignored him, selecting a length of rope to bind his hands and feet with. Having chosen which rope she wanted, she went back to where he lay and bound his wrists, then his ankles. Each rope was a little tighter than it had to be.  
  
Rising swiftly and gracefully, she stepped away from him. At the entrance to the tent, she stopped and turned back to face him, delighting in the fear upon his face.  
  
"You will be put to death at dawn. Enjoy your last night on this earth." Her voice was chilling. She stepped out of the tent and left him alone in the dark. Unseen by anyone, he began to cry.  
  
Present time- Half a Candle Mark Later- Outside the town  
  
The covered wagon lurched to a stop at the gates of the town. Xena was sitting quietly, with her eyes closed. Her back was resting against the side of the wagon. Gabrielle wished she could look as calm. After the story Xena had just told them, she felt drained. She had no idea how the warrior felt and couldn't tell by looking at her face. The mask was fixed firmly in place, but that, in itself, told Gabrielle enough. Xena was deeply upset. She was hurting, but choosing not to show it was typical for her. Too many people were scared away by the cold, unfeeling image she held around herself like a cloak. Sometimes Gabrielle wished she'd been one of them, but lately the good days had far outweighed the bad.  
  
Xena had told the story flatly, adding details only when prompted to by Gabrielle. She hadn't answered one of the most important questions as far as Gabrielle was concerned. Xena hadn't told them why she'd let Jon live rather than killing him. From the way both of them looked, Gabrielle guessed that she wasn't going to find out anytime soon either. It left her feeling frustrated.  
  
Jon looked faintly sick at the unsympathetic re-telling of how he'd come to loose his hand. In part, Gabrielle understood why Xena had done it, but another part found it horrifying. She wasn't sure which part was stronger. She did know that she had questions for Xena, and most of them weren't pleasant. She sighed deeply at the thought of the conversation that was to come.  
  
Jon looked at her with a strange expression on his face. "Something wrong, little bard?" he asked.  
  
"No, not really." She said shortly and went back to staring at her nails.  
  
The wagon made its way slowly through the town until it was forced to stop. Gabrielle could hear children playing somewhere close. The noise was a strange counterpoint to the silence inside the wagon. Whatever obstruction had caused the stop cleared and the cumbersome vehicle lurched as it moved off once again. After a few minutes of traveling, the wagon stopped once more, this time in front of the courthouse.  
  
A pair of guards yanked open the back flaps of the wagon. Bright sunlight streamed in, a sharp contrast to the earlier fog, which had been mostly burned off as the sun rose to it's zenith. In front of them, the town was spread out in a cheerful mass of bright colours and moving people. It was market day, and the stalls were spread around the town square. The stone built courthouse looked out over the town. Its back was to the town wall, which provided protection from sneak attacks.  
  
Jon was working under the instructions of the town's elder and judge. He was to capture and detain Xena and any companions without harming them. He'd done his part, but somehow, it didn't feel as good as he thought it would have. Xena wasn't as he remembered her, and the victory felt hollow. He could now see that had he been in her position eleven years ago, he probably would have done the same thing. He felt troubled and tense. He was not looking forward to meeting the judge.  
  
"Xena?" he said quietly.  
  
She slowly turned her face towards him. "Yes?" Tired blue eyes searched his face.  
  
He never had a chance to say what he wanted. Sharp footsteps told him that the judge had arrived, and would be impatient to see the women he held prisoner.  
  
Gabrielle was taken out of the wagon first, and led away to wait.  
  
In the mere seconds between Gabrielle leaving and Jon getting out of the wagon, Xena had a chance to say what she wanted.  
  
"Jon, I'm sorry." The words, though few, were heartfelt.  
  
"As am I, as am I." Jon agreed before walking away.  
  
Xena was left on her own at the mercy of the judge and guards.  
  
One day later- Agoina Courthouse  
  
Xena stood shackled in the town's courthouse. She'd been stripped of the armor and leathers that defined her. The judge had wanted to cut her hair, but one look had stilled his hand. Even beaten and bound, Xena was a formidable sight. Across the room from her stood the town Elder, who had been appointed judge. He glared at the bound woman with thinly disguised loathing. To Gabrielle's knowledge, Xena had done nothing to him.  
  
The judge motioned for silence. He nodded to his scribe to take down what was said- even though most of the town's people couldn't read a single word. When the excited chatter had died down, he spoke "You are Xena of Amphipolis?" His voice was high and had a child-like quality about it that set Gabrielle's teeth on edge. She wanted to gag the man. From the look on her face, Gabrielle was willing to bet Xena felt the same. It vanished in a second, leaving the emotionless mask in it's place. Gabrielle had never been able to master the look herself.  
  
"Yes." To most in the courtroom, Xena's voice was perfectly neutral. Only Gabrielle picked up on the faint traces of sarcasm and frustration that laced the woman's speech.  
  
"You are here today charged with the murder of King Persis. You are also charged with the ransacking of several of his villages." The Elder glanced at a bearded man, who stood stiffly. He was older than most of the population, almost in his sixties if Gabrielle was guessing correctly. He had also been the town judge before he had been replaced. He walked across the room to stand in front of Xena.  
  
"I am here to question you. If there is anything you don't understand...." Prompted to hurry by a glare from the judge, he unrolled a short scroll. "These are questions posed by the town people, you understand."  
  
Gabrielle found that very strange- what kind of court allowed anyone to ask a question?  
  
Pausing to read from it for a moment, he began to speak.  
  
His first question was short and to the point. "Why did you do it?" he wisely kept his tone neutral.  
  
Xena hesitated so long before speaking, Gabrielle worried she wouldn't answer at all "I enjoyed it." She said frankly. As soon as the words had left her mouth, her eyes drifted to a point just above the judge's shiny bald head. Everyone in the courtroom gasped in dismay at her harsh words.  
  
For a moment, Gabrielle was speechless with shock and horror at the callous answer her friend had given. She unwillingly met Xena's eyes and realized that her friend wasn't being cruel. She was laying her soul bare for all those in the courtroom to see. Gabrielle felt a lump rise in her throat as she understood the mental torment her friend was in.  
  
"The truth is, no-one forced me to do what I did. It would have been excusable then. I did what I did because I wanted to at the time." She sighed heavily, a sound filled with all the things she couldn't bring herself to say. "I..." She stopped for a moment, looking at the people listening to her. "I never wanted any of this. I was an innkeeper's daughter..."  
  
"Do you have a point?" The judge cut in angrily. He correctly sensed that his audience's attention was swinging to the riveting figure standing before them.  
  
Xena looked at him calmly and spoke the truth. "I killed Persis in self defence. Not for myself, but to keep him from razing this town to the ground." The quiet truth in her words carried more impact than a shouted truth would have. "I've killed people- both in battle and in cold blood, but I am no assassin." The people in the courtroom looked on as she stared at her slender hands. "I've shed enough blood with these."  
  
"You claim that King Persis was going to destroy this town? Why would he do that? We paid our taxes," A woman from the town cried out angrily.  
  
"This town is on the river. A trade route runs through it. You have good fertile farmland. Persis wanted to claim that for his own army. He planed to build a garrison here," She reasoned calmly.  
  
Gabrielle glanced at the Judge. He had paled at Xena's words. His hands were clenched around the scroll he'd picked up. In that moment, Gabrielle understood the truth. Xena wasn't lying. The elders in the town had known of King Persis's plan and had done nothing.  
  
The judge spoke, his voice tight with anger.  
  
"We will adjourn this court for today as it grows late. We will meet again tomorrow. Guards, take them to the cells." With those words, he walked out of the room. Xena didn't resist as the guards grabbed her by her arms and dragged her outside. The cool, crisp air felt good after the stuffiness of the courtroom.  
  
She wasn't looking forward to the 'interrogation' she was no doubt going to receive. She caught Gabrielle's eye and smiled slightly. The blonde came over to her.  
  
"May I talk to my friend?" Gabrielle asked, addressing the taller of the two guards. He looked at his partner, who shrugged. The guards stopped, letting the two woman speak.  
  
"Where are they taking you?" Gabrielle asked  
  
"To the town jail." Blue eyes met green ones. "Don't worry about me when I come back."  
  
With that, the guards started walking, forcing Xena to keep pace. Gabrielle was left wondering at the meaning of Xena's words. 


	2. Jail

Half a Candlemark later- Outside the Jail  
  
The jail was a small building built of thick stone blocks. There wasn't a distinguishing mark on it, but the people who passed treated it with wary respect. From inside, she could hear the chilling screams of one of it's occupants. No expense had been spared when building it, but that didn't't surprise Xena. Persis had been a rich man when he still drew breath. He'd hurt her deeply, and in a lasting way. She'd caught him plotting to kill her and destroy the towns she was protecting. The town whose jail she stood facing was one of the, even though no-one who lived there knew she watched over it. She had visited the town as a child, with her uncle and had fallen in love with it.  
  
When she'd goaded him into a duel with her, she knew that there was a good chance she could lose. He was a better fighter than she was. She beat him fair and square though. The fight had been a difficult one for her, it terms of physical effort and mental pain. She hadn't planned to kill him, but it had happened. His was the first death at her hands that she felt remorse for.  
  
Her attention snapped back to the present as the judge spoke to her. She quietly cursed herself for letting her focus slip.  
  
"This, Princess, is your new home." His tone was condemning and sarcastic. "I do hope you enjoy your stay." He spat on the ground at her feet and walked away.  
  
She watched as the same guards that had been tasked with watching her came across the sparse grass that was laid in front of the jailhouse like a thread-bare rug. They both wore matching smiles, and inwardly she shuddered. The thought of what was coming made her feel sick. It wasn't exactly fear, more dread. Her own dark past had been punctuated with beatings and torture. Crucifixion seemed to be most people's favourite method of trying to kill her.  
  
This time, she guessed that it would be a good old-fashioned beating. Normally, given the chance, she would distance herself from the scene. This time, she feared she wouldn't be able too. She wasn't the impermeable, untouchable stone angel that people imagined her to be. She bled just like they did, and could die just as easily. People needed to paint her as above them, as a sort of demi-god so that they could sleep easily at night. If she was just a mere mortal, they could just as easily fall into dark ways.  
  
It was okay with her, most of the time. Sometimes she had to let her walls down and just be Xena, the woman, rather than Xena- Warrior Princess. It was hard to find a place where she felt happy to be her true self. Home was one place where she didn't worry about letting people see what she felt. After all, some of them had seen her as a baby. Another place she had to relax was a little hunting cabain a little way outside of the town.  
  
The guard grabbed her arm and she reacted with all the honed skills she had. She twisted his arm around his back and applied just enough pressure to cause him pain. A fraction of an inch more and he'd have a broken arm. His partner, the older and wiser of the two, knew not to get into striking distance. He grabbed a lengthen of chain hanging from his belt and span it around his head. She heard the sound of the air moving and threw herself on the floor, landing awkwardly. The guard who had grabbed her wasn't quick enough and took the brunt of the impact. The result wasn't pretty at all. The result wasn't pretty at all. He lay on the floor, unconscious or dead. She didn't take the time to check.  
  
The older guard dropped the length of chain and drew his short sword. Any normal day, she would have been more than his match. Today, chained and still a little winded from her tumble, she could only defend herself from his half hearted blows. He had no wish to kill a bound person, and a woman at that. He hit her with the side of his sword, leaving a red mark that would bruise by nightfall. He seemed to suddenly tire of the fight, and hit her across the temple with his sword. She felt a second's disorientation, and then blackness enveloped her senses.  
  
Inside the Jail- 1 candle mark later  
  
When she woke from the blow, she found that she was chained securely to the wall. It was damp, cold and very rough. She could feel several scrapes on her back and shoulders where the roughly hewn stone had torn through the thin shift she wore. It added to her discomfort, but she could ignore it. For now.  
  
Looking around the cell, she guessed that it was underground. There was a barred window opposite her, but even if she had managed to break free of the chains, she would never be able to fit through it. It was only as deep as her hand span. The rest of the cell was empty. The floor was littered with slowly decomposing straw. The door, which was on her right, looked solid and un-breakable. It had a barred window in the top of it. Thee was nothing in the cell that she could use to free herself.  
  
She would have cursed, but at the moment, the wooden door opened. A short, thin man walked into the cell. He was stooped, and looked aged. Thin clothes covered a frail looking body. What little hair he had left was shockingly white against his grimy skin. Nothing about his appearance looked dangerous, but something about him sent a shiver of unease running through Xena. She knew that nothing good could come from him being in her cell.  
  
Without consciously noticing it, she sat up a little straighter, and something akin to defiance burned in her eyes. She was almost frightening to look upon. The man didn't stop until he was just outside of her striking range. When he looked at her, she saw insanity in his grey eyes. She knew she'd be lucky to leave the cell unharmed. She mentally prepared herself for the agony that was to come.  
  
The frail old man was nothing like his appearance suggested. He had almost unbelievable strength for someone of his size. He wasn't all that old, either. A few to many hard winters in the army had withered his body, but hardened his soul. The white haired man nodded to the two guards, who brought the tools of his trade into the small room. For the woman, he had brought special tools. A knife that he had killed for was the instrument he planned to start with.  
  
At his snapped command, the guards put down his bags and left the cell. The last one almost tripped over his own feet in his haste to leave the chamber.  
  
"I, lady, am Tomas." his voice was low, and deeper that she had thought it would be.  
  
"I'm impressed." the sarcasm was thick and hard to miss.  
  
"You will be." Tomas said, the certainty in his tone convincing.  
  
She raised a brow at him. "What? Let me guess. You're gonna talk me to death."  
  
"No, lady. Talk is what you're going to do." something in his tone was threatening, and despite her bravado, Xena was worried.  
  
"Try me." She bit off, "You're not the first, and you wont be the last."  
  
"Ah, but I am the best, lady. But you'll find that out for yourself soon enough." he smiled at her, his mouth moving, eyes staying cold. As cold as the grave.  
  
He opened the bag, and reached in. The knife that he pulled out was truly awe inspiring. Six inches of black metal, forged into a single edged blade. The hilt was made from carved horn, and had been buffed to a dull shine by the countless times it had been used. In the dim light, the knife edge glinted like a river in the night. He caressed the blade lovingly, drawing blood where the edge cut his skin.  
  
"I killed for this, you know. Stuck my knife right in a man's gut." His tone was almost dreamy.  
  
He stepped forward, right into her range. She drove a kick at him, putting all the power she had behind it.  
  
She missed. He dodged, moving like a cat. She was expecting a blow back, but he simply stood and watched as she sat back up.  
  
"You'll have to do better than that, lady." he struck out at her, hitting an accurate blow with the handle of the knife. Blood welled from the cut along her cheekbone, and she arched back in surprise. She hadn't seen the blow coming.  
  
She strengthened her resolve, and spat "give me whatya got." He did. 


End file.
